


beside myself (if this is for real)

by empathieves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Praise Kink, all relationships except drarry are background, this was meant to be pure pwp and ended up being mostly fluff with a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9637481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: After the war is over, Draco discovers he has a thing for being praised. Harry figures it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in twenty minutes because I couldn't get it out of my head. Un-beta-ed.

The first time Harry says it, it’s nothing. Nothing to Harry, anyway.  
They’re in Potions. It’s Eighth Year, there’s only a few of them even in this class, and the tension is absurd. They’ve been back at Hogwarts for two weeks already, and Draco had been here before that helping with rebuilding. Discreetly, of course, only asking to be placed in areas he wouldn’t be seen, doing all his work quietly and paying penance in the only way he could where he wouldn’t be accused of trying to profit off the image of being ‘reformed’. He’d asked McGonagall to keep it private. He didn’t want the attention. He just wanted to try and repair some of the damage he’d done. It was nice to be left alone, anyway. The work was meditative, sometimes physical, other times long hours of careful enchantment. He enjoyed it. He didn’t say anything when Pansy and Blaise joined him a week after he started. They didn’t say anything when Theo showed up a week after that.  
  
He thinks McGonagall told Harry anyway.  
Ever since they returned, it’s been…different between them. Sometimes Draco catching Harry looking at him, which isn’t new, but the lack of animosity is. He is, of course, still looking at Harry. He’s always been looking at Harry.  
  
Anyway, they’re in Potions, working on something ridiculously complicated, and Draco gets it perfect. He knows that he’s good at Potions – knows that he’s got the skills to show off a little – but he’s been out of school for a while and he wasn’t exactly…sure. He knows he’s good, but he doesn’t feel confident.  
And he nails every step, gets it perfect, and of course Harry was working next to him and he leans over Draco’s cauldron, and Draco braces for an insult.  
“Good work, Malfoy.” he says instead, and Draco feels all the air go out of him in an instant. He thinks, in an absentminded panicked sort of way, just like magic. He doesn’t laugh though because his knees have gone a little weak and he can feel the heat from Harry’s arm and shoulder where he’s still leaning in just that little bit too close, and oh my God this is a thing isn’t it?  
He doesn’t think Harry notices. He gets himself under control, brings the mask back down, says thank you because his mother raised him to be polite at all times.  
Harry did notice.

  
It happens again weeks later, long enough that Draco becomes pretty confident that his reaction in Potions was forgotten. Pansy had been writing apology letters the night before, and they’d stayed up til three helping her, because kind words were hard enough for her and humility was harder. She’d wanted to – no one had been forcing her – but Draco had still felt inexplicably sad, watching her frown at her parchment and smear ink all over her face, concentrating harder on getting this right than she ever had on an assignment in her life.  
  
He’s proud of her. He doesn’t tell her so, because she’s still holding herself together through sheer force of will, but he’ll tell her eventually. When he stops checking to make sure that she’s still there beside him during class, her face stony as always to distract from the half-moons she’s cut into her palms with her nails.  
He gets four hours of sleep. It’s not enough, and he looks frightful, but it’s worth it. He’s got bags under his eyes and his back and shoulders are knotted with tension, he’s even paler than usual, but there’s a kind of peace around his eyes that he knows hasn’t been there since second year.  
  
Blaise and Theo walk with him to the Great Hall, Blaise talking quietly to Theo about how he’s pretty sure his mother’s courting a woman this time. Pansy’s up in the Owlery, but Draco knows that she’ll be down in time to eat. Theo’s been making sure she does, and she knows just as well as he does that she’ll catch hell from him if she doesn’t eat breakfast.  
  
He’s just sat down when he hears someone walk behind him, and he turns to look at them, expecting Pansy (which is stupid, she won’t be down for fifteen minutes yet) and seeing Harry, who regards him for a second.  
“You look good today.” he says, and then he walks away, back to his own table.  
Draco lets his head fall onto the wood and groans.  
“What the fuck was that?”  
“I have no idea, Blaise, but I would like it to stop now.” he says, and when he looks up they’re both laughing at him, because they know Draco’s been gone on Harry Potter since third year and the idea that he’d actually want Harry to stop complimenting him is absurd.  
(but he does want him to stop, at least in public, because this is definitely, absolutely a confirmed thing for him and it’s embarrassing)

  
It happens again, and again, in between all the other things that happen. Draco gets complimented, Hermione receives Pansy’s letter and inexplicably starts crying at the Gryffindor table to the confusion of pretty much everyone, Draco gets complimented, Blaise learns that his mother is in fact dating a woman – not just any woman, but Professor Sinistra, and apparently has ‘no intention of her passing unexpectedly’, Draco gets complimented, Blaise and Theo finally get over their communication problems and start dating. Draco gets complimented and Pansy asks Luna Lovegood out. Draco gets complimented and Ginny Weasley shaves off her hair and starts courting Astoria Greengrass. It’s all extremely confusing and Draco thinks it’s privately kind of hilarious that the Post-War Baby Boom phenomena won’t be happening this time because everyone appears to be gay. He is, however, struggling daily with the urge to kiss Harry whenever he compliments him, because he has to know the effect it has on Draco, at least a little.  
It takes two more times, and he loses the struggle.

  
They’re in some dark corner of the castle that Draco didn’t even know about, and Harry’s kissing his neck and he’s got his hands under Draco’s shirt, murmuring into his ear, and Draco’s helpless.  
“You’re so good, Draco, oh my God, how did I not notice?” he says, and Draco shudders because that’s unfair, and he buckles a little, but Harry’s holding him up, insinuating his thigh between Draco’s legs and gripping his forearms to brace him up against the wall. Draco kind of can’t believe this is happening, even as Harry’s whispering to him again, grinding up against him, and Draco can’t think, can’t comprehend this, because Harry’s everything, he’s the sun and the sky and the man who saved his life, and he’s telling Draco that he’s good, that he’s precious and glorious and worth everything, and he’s promising all these things that Draco’s been wishing for as long as he can remember –

  
When he comes down from it, Harry’s still there, and when he asks if it was real, Harry looks mildly offended.  
“Of course it was. Why would I lie?”  
And Draco wants to point out all the reasons, all the ways his mind could twist this situation into something advantageous for either of them, but Harry smiles at him and his heart kind of – stutters, a little bit, so he just goes silent.  
“You know your ears are going red?” he says, and Draco’s hands instinctively go up to cover them.  
“No, don’t, it’s cute,” Harry says, and he’s bringing Draco closes, wrapping his arms around him, and it feels as much like redemption as rebuilding the walls around them did.


End file.
